Nowhere Man
by Alive At Last
Summary: ."Have you had enough time?" / Pre-Book / ON HIATUS
1. Prologue

**Nowhere Man  
****Summary: **"Have you had enough time?"  
**A/N:** After seven comments, I've gone with Jesse Mathews. And I changed Two-Bit's mother's name from Mattie to Helen. Darrel Curtis makes a special appearance.

* * *

Never in my entire life was I more afraid of what was coming through those two metal doors. I sat there in a goofy looking green cap and a matching smock over-top of my t-shirt and jeans. My shoes stuck out from under the ankle length smock; they were scuffed, leather, and browning from it's original black color. The signs of being worn and worked. I swerved my feet under me, mesmerized almost, and frowned lowly; I could feel my wrinkles deepening around my mouth and eyes. I was scared.

Soon a lady in a suit like mine, except blue, was holding a blue blanket bundled around a wiggling, crying object. Boy did the kid have a pair of lungs; he wailed and wailed until my ears hurt. Then, as soon as the nurse placed him in my arms, he quieted for a moment, then jabbered some baby gibberish at me. He constantly talked and wiggled and talked some more. His pink chubby fingers connected to pink chubby arms reached out from the blue blanket out towards me; his little fingers enter-twined in my two week old facial hair and yanked, giggling at the grunting noise I made as he did so. The hat that the nurse had put on him was falling off, revealing a little reddish-brown hair, almost rusty colored, curled atop his head. Slowly, and for the first time, I touched his pink-pale little skin while retrieving the hat. He was a soft little thing, weak and defenseless. And he sure did giggle a lot.

Now the hat sat properly on his head, his little blue-gray eyes blinking up at me. He yawned a toothless yawn, snuggling down into the crook of my arm. The nurse returned, saying, "You may see your wife now."

That was a lie. She wasn't my wife yet. But in any matter I took the sleeping bundle of flesh, vulnerable and innocent, into the bright white room where the woman I loved laid, exhausted. Once I was inside, I took a plastic chair and sat in it with a thud, but Mattie quickly protested, "Not so rough."

I nodded, passing the baby to her like a football. She took him, smiling a little, and whispered, "Hello there little one."

The pink little fellow spoke to her in his own language, which she seemed to understand, because she returned with an, "I know, I know."

Then with her bright blue eyes, she looked at me and questioned, "What's his name, Jesse?"

I leaned back and thought for a moment. "I don't know," I answered honestly. "Clyde?"

"No." She shook her head, her messy red hair bobbing on her head. The pink fellow was staring at her hair.

"Kenneth?"

"Keith," Helen said in a tone which told me that it was final. "Keith Mathews."

I reached out to him; Keith took my finger in a grip, moving it to his mouth. He sucked on it for a moment, his gums mashing against my calloused finger. He took it out and said something else in his language. "But he sure does get his two-bit's worth in," I added, and Helen only smiled.

After countless minutes, which seemed like hours, of cooing and whining, gibberish talk and kisses, we were permitted to leave, which I gladly accepted. Helen handed me Keith, which I held like a football in the nook of my left arm, the right holding him upright by his stomach. He wiggled a little, then stayed put. I wanted to pat his head and say 'Good boy,' like a puppy. Helen was gently placed into a wheelchair, and once she was settled, I returned her baby. She cradled him and he told her something I didn't catch.

I grabbed the handles and wheeled her out of the room. We were stopped at the main desk, being told to check out. I signed her out after a moment of hesitation. I brushed some greasy strands of reddish-brown hair from my eyes and grabbed Helen's chair. Just as I began to push, Helen tilted her head towards me and smiled an award winning smile. "Jesse…" she began. "I love you."

My cheeks heated a little and my eyes grew slightly larger.

"I love you too, baby," I whispered.

Night air engulfed us when we went through the large, sliding hospital doors. I loved the night air, the night life, anything about the night. I rolled her to my old ford truck, red and faded almost to the point of pink, and opened the door. With my hand out, she grabbed it and hoisted her self up and into the passenger seat, securing Keith the whole way. Once her belt was on and Keith was quiet, I shut the door and folded the chair, putting it into the truck bed. Everything on the old truck was creaking, rusty, or broken. Helen didn't mind the bad state of my car, just as long as we got where we were going.

Now I sat next to her in the driver's side, turning the key and hearing the truck begin to start. But that's all it did, it began. Groaning, I turned the key again, hearing it hiss and splutter. Helen giggled at me and my irritation. I forced a grin and tried again, hitting the gas pedal and break as I did until it started.

"Sorry," I muttered, embarrassed. Again she giggled and was joined by the pink wiggly thing in her arms.

"That's fine, honey."

We backed out, more so _I_ backed out since I was in control, and headed for the main road. Her house wasn't too far away, maybe five miles or so. But my gas meter showed the needle on the point right next to E. "Mind if I stop for gas?" I asked.

"Of course."

I stopped at the DX; there was only car there at the time. It was a blue ford in a little better shape than mine. The driver was pumping gas while holding a little kid in his arms. The kid was a mirror image of the guy. I got out at the pump across from him.

"Evenin'," he offered, the kid waving at me.

"Evening."

"What are you doing out so late?" he asked. I began pumping gas into the car, watching the numbers slowly rise.

"Got myself a kid," I whispered. I looked up. "What's his name?" I asked, looking at the kid he was holding. The man had bags under his eyes and looked exhausted.

"Darrel Shayne Curtis… the second," he said proudly, and baby Darrel held up two fingers, crying, "Second," a couple of times. "Yours?"

"Keith… Mathews."

Darrel looked at me for a moment, his icy blue eyes peering into me; he smiled. "That's a good name."

Helen leaned out of the driver's window. "Thank you." Darrel, a little surprised, leaned over to look at her. Helen kept grinning.

"Hello, ma'am," he offered.

"Helen is fine." She smiled at him, and he returned it.

Putting his kid on the hood of his car, he finished pumping gas and hung the nozzle up. "Mind keeping an eye on his trouble maker?" he asked. "I'll be a minute."

Helen jumped the gun, "Of course, sweetie."

Darrel smiled and went inside the station, leaving baby Darrel, lets call him Darry, on the hood. I finished pumping a moment later, and hung the nozzle up. I kept my eyes on Darry, who was kicking his legs back and forth, looking terribly bored. He was looking around. He was small, just a kid, but good looking like his father.

Soon Darrel returned with a gallon of milk in his hands and dropping a little change on the ground. "Thanks," he said.

"Maybe," Helen called, "when Keith grows up a little he and Darry can have a play date or something."

Nodding, Darrel grabbed his son and slid into his car. "I'd bet my wife would like that." He looked at Darry for a moment. "And to think she wants two more of these guys." His gaze returned to us. "In case ya'll need a baby sitter, you can come to our house; my wife would love it. We're in that little white house with the fence, across from the park."

"We'll do that," Helen said, and Darrel grinned.

"Take care now."

"You too," I returned.

After paying for the gas, we were back on the road to Helen's house. It was near midnight when I pulled up. Helen jumped out before I got the wheelchair out for her. She said something about not wanting to feel weak and that she needed help. I loved that about her.

"Darrel was very optimistic," she said as I held the door open for her. I leaned in and kissed her softly.

"He was." I shut the screen door between us. "I'll be back tomorrow," I said, but her face fell a little.

"I want you to live with us. You're his father, and he needs one…" she trailed off. "I need you to be with me."

My hand pressed against the screen; her hand floated up and touched it. She was so young. "Okay," I said. She smiled at me. "I'll be back tomorrow morning with my things. Get some sleep."

"Okay."

* * *

I returned the next day with nothing but a duffle bag. There wasn't much to my name except a few t-shirts, jeans, a few tins of grease, a couple packs of smokes, and about two hundred dollars. And Helen, young and beautiful, loved me for everything I had. She welcomed me with open arms, except Keith was in one of them, sleeping. We kissed innocently as I walked in. I went on upstairs, putting my things on the bed in her… our… room, looking around. It was clean, fresh smelling. The crib was in the corner of the room.

"Jesse?" she called.

"Yeah?"

"I want to talk to you."

Cautiously I climbed down the stairs, finding her on the couch feeding Keith. I walked over and sat in a chair across from her. I felt like a child in trouble for breaking something. "Yeah?"

She was glowing, bright and flawless. "Do you love me?" she asked after a moment.

"Of course."

Helen looked down for a moment at Keith, then back up. "I want to marry you."

I froze, the color in my face draining. "H-Helen… I don't think…"

"Jesse…"

"…we're ready for that." I stood and approached her, sitting on the coffee table that separated us and grabbed her hand. "Give me time…" I almost begged.

After a moment, she smiled, leaned in and kissed me, and said, "Alright."


	2. Chapter 1: The Call

**Nowhere Man  
****Summary: **"Have you had enough time?"  
**A/N:** I switch from Jesse POV to 3rd person halfway through since I changed from his life to Two-Bit's. I might be doing that a little through out the entire story.

* * *

Bright light shone into my small apartment, lighting up the enclosed space, and through my blinds, a small, slender ray shone right on my eye lids. Moaning, I turned over away from the light and went back to sleep. But my alarm clock buzzed and buzzed until I slammed my hand down on the snooze button. Another five minutes of sleep, it went off again, so I tore it from the wall and threw it across the room. But I woke up this time.

My body felt like lead, and my head weighed at least a ton. Standing up was feat of it's own. I drug my feet across the brown-spotted carpet, which used to be white, to the kitchen, avoiding Bill, who was sprawled across the floor, clutching a Jim Bean in one hand and a nearly-naked blonde in the other. Their snoring combined to one loud, obnoxious racket. The counter was covered in red, plastic cups, coins in some of them, and an uncalled for yellow puddle on the counter. God damn, if Bill didn't quit his parties, I was kicking him out.

Ignoring the rest of the mess, I grabbed a carton of orange juice from the fridge and took a swig. Then remembering a remedy my father made me, I grabbed the carton of milk too. Then taking an empty cup, I poured the orange juice, milk, and added water together in it. I nursed the glass, walking back into the main room, stepping over Bill. There was a calendar sitting on the coffee table with a date marked next week. I leaned forward, grabbing it, and took a look.

_June 20 - Keith's birthday_

Freezing, I blinked, shook my head, and looked at it again.

_June 20 - Keith's birthday_

"Damn it," I cursed softly, setting the calendar down and leaning into the couch I didn't remember sitting on. I rubbed a hand through my red-brown hair, which was graying by the way, and shut my eyes tight. My son's birthday and I didn't even have a single idea of what to get him.

I reached over and picked up the phone, setting it on my lap, and took it off the receiver. I dialed quick, resting it against my ear, and waited as it rung. The third ring in, she picked up.

"_Hello," _the voice rang, as sweet as ever. But I could tell she was matured more.

"Helen," my voice forced out.

There was no answer. Just ragged breathing and a low hum in the distance of a male voice. Because of the silence, I asked, "Is that my son I hear?"

"_It is."_

How curt. "May I speak to him?"

"_No."_

"Please."

Another silent pause. The voice, my son, in the background cackled a little from what I could hear. "May I talk to him? I'd like to know what he wants for his birthday."

"_I'm surprised you remembered."_

"Of course, dear--"

"_Don't you dare call me that, Jesse. You have no right; you lost the privilege of calling me that when you ran out on me."_

"I'm sorry--"

"_No you ain't." _Yet another pause, and this time I didn't hear Keith. _"Have you had enough time?" _And she slammed the phone down, cutting me off. I heard a loud buzz from the other end, so I hung up my end.

**-- -- -- -- -- **

Two-Bit gawked at his mother, who was glaring hard at the phone on the wall, as if wishing it to explode. His sister, Linda, looked at her too, keeping quiet. Finally their mother sighed, rubbing red hair from her eyes and turning to her kids. "Y…ya'll have to get going," she said softly. Two-Bit rose to his feet, walked to his mother, and kissed her cheek. She smiled, forcefully, and jerked her head as if to say to get going. Two-Bit looked at his little sister, then began his way to his car.

"What was that about?" Linda asked once the front door was shut. Two-Bit honestly shrugged, unlocking his car.

"Not sure." There was a pause between them. "I'm going to pick up Ponyboy and Johnny for school. Since your school is on the way, get in."

He got in, reached over and unlocked her side, then adjusted himself back in his seat. Slamming his door, Two-Bit smiled and started his old car. He stopped at the road turning to Linda's school, allowing her to get out. Linda looked thoughtfully at her older brother, then leaned in and hugged him. He sneered playfully, smacking her rear-end as she climbed out, her bag swinging a little.

Two-Bit charged in the Curtis house, yelling an, "Is anyone home?" as he did. Steve looked up from his spot on the couch, not bothering to grin or crack a change in his expression. Two-Bit mirrored him for a minute until Steve shook his head and returned his attention back to the news since it was _so_ much more important than Two-Bit.

"Good mornin' to you too, Stevie m' boy."

He walked into the kitchen, finding Darry leaning on the stove. "Hey," Darry offered.

"Good morning, Admiral!" Two-Bit announced, shooting his body to attention and looking forward without a flaw.

"As you were," Darry said, a little grin working itself on his face. Two-Bit smiled, relaxing and leaning on the wall.

"Where's the kid?" he asked.

"He'll be out in a minute. Johnny will be here any moment now."

"Good deal."

Two-Bit made himself comfortable at the table. He looked at Darry quietly, and the older man noticed. "Why so quiet?"

"Thinking."

Darry turned and looked at him. "I'm surprised steam or smoke ain't trailing from your ears."

Two-Bit shot him a look. "Yeah, yeah."

"Anyways, what about?"

Darry leaned on the stove, almost sitting on it, and looked right down at him. His ice blue eyes were peering deep into him. But they were thoughtful and calm. Two-Bit looked right back before saying, "Someone called my mum earlier, and she got upset."

"D'ya know who he was?"

Two-Bit's head lowered for a moment, in thought, before returning to it's upright position. "I think it was my father."

"How can you be so sure?"

"She called him Jesse, Darry. I know my father's name, even if I'm not so sure on his face." They looked at each other for a little while. Then, Sodapop came raging in, interrupting the silence like the normal Soda would. Two-Bit smiled all the same, cocking his head at Darry in a gesture that they couldn't continue their conversation.

"Time to round up the horses!" Two-Bit yelled, jumping up. Sodapop laughed heartily. Two-Bit glanced at Darry before walking out and down the hall. "Oh, Ponnieee!" he drawled. "Where are yoouu?" Ponyboy came out of the bathroom, grinning.

"Jeeze, Two-Bit," he remarked. "I'm ready. Where's Johnny?"

Speaking of the devil, Johnny himself walked in, hands in his pockets and sporting a new bruise on his face. Steve looked up at him with a little worry on his face, more emotion than he gave Two-Bit. But Johnny turned away and rubbed his cheek tenderly. Darry was in the kitchen doorway, watching everyone.

"Do you need any thing, Johnnycakes?" he asked. Johnny looked towards Darry.

"No." His voice was soft as usual. Darry nodded in understanding.

"Ready, Johnny-baby?" Two-Bit asked, slinging an arm around the boy's shoulders. Johnny shied a little from the touch, but relaxed, nodding. Two-Bit grinned broadly, flashing white teeth. "Then lets go, baby," he teased, moving his hips a little to emphasize his point.

* * *

Helen stood in the kitchen, buttoning the top button of her work dress when the phone rang again. She picked it up, but said nothing.

"_Helen…" _Jesse tried.

"Why won't you leave us alone for another eighteen years?" she asked, almost pleading.

"_Be rational."_

"Don't you ever talk to my son, or my daughter, now, or in the future."

"_Daughter?"_

"And she's not yours. At least her father isn't calling me out of the blue, asking what she wants for her birthday. He actually cares and sends me a little money each month."

"_Is that what you fucking want?" _Jesse almost yelled. _"Money? I can get you money, if that's what it takes!"_

"Jesse, please, stop! Just stop."

"_Let me see my son; I have a right."_

"You never had it!"

Again, she slammed down the phone, angered. She brushed her dress down a little and adjusted her collar. Before turning out of the kitchen, she took the cord out of the phone and left it on the counter. There was no use of having him call every ten minutes for more arguing.

She slid into her shoes and grabbed her purse, not looking back as she walked out of the house.


	3. Chapter 2: Meeting Dad

**Nowhere Man  
Summary:** "Have you had enough time?"  
**A/N:** What Dally does to Jesse was taken from the movie Face/Off, when Castor Troy tells Sean's daughter that when you stab someone to turn it, so the wound won't close.

* * *

It was about week since Jesse decided on calling Helen out of the blue, and Two-Bit near forgot about that call. At least, for the time being since there was a blonde on his lap, her tight little ass rubbing up on him as they kissed. He never caught her name, but boy was she a good kisser. The rusty haired greaser had his hands up her shirt, one hand playing with her bra hook and the other teasing the top of her low riding jeans, his fingers tugging at the string of her panties. She was moaning into his mouth, moving her body in an erotic rhythm, rubbing against him. And Two-Bit realized his jeans got unbearably tight around his groin. But Hank Williams wasn't really catching the mood for him. The blonde fixed the problem by breaking their make-out session and whispering in his ear, "Let's go upstairs where it's quiet."

He grinned, wiping his lip with a finger. She hopped off of his lap and grabbed his hand, leading him to the stairs.

After she fell asleep in his arms, Two-Bit wiggled away from her. Grabbing his jeans, he slid into them, leaving them unbuttoned, and snatched his shirt and jacket. Before leaving, though, he took the Wildhorse's from her purse and put them in his jacket. It was notorious for fucking and stealing.

Most of the people had left, but were replaced with new faces. He paid them no mind, except there was an older man, too old for his taste, sitting at the bar and talking to Buck. He couldn't be more than thirty, if that old, and he was small for his height. But it wasn't the fact than an old geezer was there, but the fact that in the sea of graying hairs on his head were rusty colored hairs that matched his own. It was probably colored, he figured, eyeing him for a moment longer before sliding on his shirt and slinging his jacket over his shoulder.

"There he is, right there," he heard Buck's voice say, and he looked over. The man was now looking at him through a pair of slender-framed glasses. Two-Bit met his gaze. "Hey, Two-Bit, get yer ass over here," Buck called.

Reluctantly, Two-Bit walked over and sat himself next to the older man. The man kept looking at him intently. Finally, his voice rang out, asking, "Can I buy you a drink?"

And Two-Bit realized that was the voice of his father. His brows furrowed to meet in the middle of his forehead in a tight glare. "No," he said. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

He got up, slinging his jacket over his shoulders, and walked for the door. Jesse set some money on the counter and chased after his son, calling out to him.

Two-Bit was halfway down the road when Jesse caught up to him, and grabbed his shoulder to bring him to a halt. "Keith, stop."

"Two-Bit," the angered teen corrected. Jesse removed his glasses and turned Two-Bit to face him.

"Why wont you let me buy you a drink?" Jesse asked, pleadingly. Two-Bit looked up to meet his father's gaze. He noticed how many features in their faces they had in common. "I want to talk to you," Jesse tried.

"You were never there."

Two-Bit turned and started walking again, and Jesse followed on his heels. They passed in front of The Way Out when Jesse stopped him again. "Why are you being so… irrational? I'm your father."

They were silent, listening to the music pouring out of the Soc's hangout. Two-Bit noticed the song to be 'Nowhere Man' by The Beatles. How ironic. But Two-Bit kept glaring at his father, his eyes dark and stormy, almost to the point of black. Then, a smile worked itself on his face.

"Fuck you."

Jesse frowned. "What did you say to me?"

"Fuck you," Two-Bit repeated a little louder.

"Excuse me?" Jesse took a step forward, still frowning.

"Fuck you!"

And Two-Bit didn't see the fist coming at him till the last second, when it hit him square in the face. He fell back, stumbling, his arms waving to catch his balance. He stepped back and steadied himself. A warm trail of blood slid down Two-Bit's lip. He was surprised.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that again," Jesse warned. Two-Bit cocked a brow.

"I'll talk to you which ever way I want to, asshole."

Dallas was walking down the road towards Bucks when he spotted the crowd forming outside of The Way Out. A good fight was always fun to watch, better if it was a couple of Socs. Dally shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way to the crowd. He shoved through till he could see good; none of the Socs paid any mind to him. Two-Bit was on the ground with some older guy on top of him, beating the living daylights out of him.

"Hey!" he called, lunging forward and grabbing the man. He pulled him up and pushed him into the crowd, where one stray Greaser was watching. The Greaser, looked like a Shepard, grabbed the guy, restraining him. Dallas picked up Two-Bit roughly by the collar of his shirt, paying no mind to his bruises. Two-Bit had a black eye and a bloody lip. His shirt was ripped and spotted in blood. Angrily, Two-Bit pushed at Dally, who refused to let go. The man was already free, but was standing, glaring at the ground. Slowly the crowd deflated.

"What the hell was all that?" Dally asked harshly. Two-Bit looked at his shoes, standing in a similar position the man was. Neither spoke. For a minute they just stood there, remaining in the same stillness. Dallas brutally shook Two-Bit, saying, "Speak up."

"Dallas, I swear to God if you don't let me go you'll regret it."

Astonished, he released the older greaser and watched him disappear. The older man, on the other hand, looked up and sighed, wiping a trail of blood from his mouth and adjusting his shirt. He took the glasses from his breast pocket, finding one lens busted and a single jagged crack down the middle of the other one. Frustrated, he threw them to the ground. The heel of his army boot crushed them till they were merely little shards.

Dally brushed some blond hairs from his face and looked at the man, who returned the stare. "What do you want?" he asked harshly. "Get lost!"

"D'ya know who you're talkin' to, pal?" Dally warned. He pulled a blade from his pocket, flicking it out and pressing the point into the man's neck. "Who the hell are you, anyways?"

"Jesse Mathews, that kids father."

Dallas's eyes grew slightly, then they narrowed to a glower. He pushed the knife a little harder into Jesse's neck. "Well, Pop, let me tell you one thing. Stay away from him. If you don't, there will be consequences."

Jesse, unfazed, backed from the blade and rubbed his throbbing neck. "You don't panic me."

Smiling, Dally chuckled. "Oh really? Well, let me leave you with something to remember me with. Let me see your hand."

Jesse, skeptical, slowly extended his hand to the teen. Dally grabbed it and looked as if he was admiring the calloused hand. Dally ran his finger tips on the palm of Jesse's hand, which was positioned so the back was in view. Once his finger tips were spread against the palm, Dally quickly lifted his other hand, wielding the knife, and shoved the blade entirely through the hand. Jesse screamed, hearing the splatter and gush of blood. Soon his whole hand grew numb and was covered in blood. Dallas had a tight grip on his wrist, so he couldn't recoil his hand back to the safety of his body. Jesse began to sweat.

"Now, you stay far from Two-Bit. The others aren't as brutal as I am, but almost." Emphasizing his point, he turned the blade, earning a loud shriek from the pained older man. Dallas took the blade out slowly, making Jesse cringe, and released his wrist. Dally gave a large smile while he cleaned his blade on Jesse's shirt, then turned and walked off in the direction his friend went a few minutes ago.

Now Jesse sat against the wall of The Way Out, panting and rubbing his hand tenderly. Tears were jerking at his eyes, but he held them back. Only one thought ran across his mind as he sat there:

_Tulsa sure has changed._


	4. Chapter 3: Talking

**Nowhere Man  
****Summary: **"Have you had enough time?"  
**A/N:** The chapters keep getting shorter and shorter... agh! I hate going down hill like this. Soon the chapters will be like a sentence or two long! Not cool! I hope you don't mind the decreasing words per chapter. I'll make it up to you in later chapters, I promise. P.S., another POV changing chapter. From Jesse POV to Third Person POV.

* * *

"You're free to go, Mr. Mathews. Keep that wound clean and replace the bandages often, alright?"

I nodded, lightly touching the pink blotch on the bandage. The doctor smiled warmly at me; I returned it and walked out quickly. The hospital smelled too much like peroxide, rubbing alcohol, and death, whatever death smelt like. Maybe it was a mixture of blood and latex gloves, since they both give off such strange odors. Once outside, I noticed that it was darker. Since Keith shot me down terribly, and his friend killed my hand, I decided to pay a visit to my high school sweetheart.

It took a few minutes to get to Helen's house; there were two cars in front of the house and for a moment, my heart sunk. _She has another guy_, my mind told me. But I pushed the thought from my mind and shifted the truck to park, then killed the engine. I pulled a Jim Bean from my coat pocket and sipped it.

After arguing with myself for a while, I built up the courage to go to the house. I stopped at the stairs going up to the porch and looked at the wooden door. It looked the same from those sixteen years ago just a little more worn down and sad looking. The paint was faded and pealing; it just reminded me of how old I was.

Climbing the stairs, I knocked on the door and stood back. It took no time for someone to answer the door. She was a little girl, maybe thirteen, and pretty. I looked down at her, and she tilted her head to look up at me with big blue eyes. "Hey," I offered, smiling.

"We don't want any," she said harshly.

"Actually, I'd like to see your mother."

"She's busy."

I rubbed the palm of my throbbing hand. "I need to speak with her," I said more forcefully. The girl blinked.

"She's busy."

I heard a yelp from what I remembered to be the kitchen, then a, "Hold still!" I tried to look past and into the kitchen. The girl began to close the door, but I caught it with my foot and her little face flared up in anger. She turned, still holding onto the door with one hand, and yelled, "Mom! There's a man at the door for you!"

"I'm busy!" Helen retorted. There was another yelp, then Helen said, "Quit being a baby. Just rub it in, god damn it. I can't do everything for you."

There was a whine from a male voice. Helen laughed. "Put it on, it's latex; it stretches."

"But it doesn't fit!"

I felt my face flare up quickly. Was she going to fuck that man right in her kitchen with her… preteen daughter in the living room? The girl smiled. "See," she said. "Busy."

Finally, I pushed the girl out of the way and stormed into the kitchen. Helen looked up in surprise, recoiling her hands back to the safety of her body space. In front of her was Keith, who was putting a bandage over a cut on his cheek. The box of bandages read "Latex" and the cut was, indeed, too big. Next to the box was a little tube of Neosporin. My face heated up real quick again.

Keith, on the other hand, glared and stood with a force, knocking over the chair he was sitting on. "Get out," he spat. "Get out, get out, get out!"

"Keith, please…" I begged. "Let me talk to your mother…"

Helen stood up, a glare to match her son's on her face, and stared at me like I was some sort of vile disease. "Two-Bit, please excuse me and this man talk for a little. Go take Linda upstairs."

Keith looked skeptical at his mother, then turned and left the room. Helen stared at me, eyes burning holes into my face. She was still as stunning as she was sixteen years ago. I reached out and cupped her chin, then leaned in to kiss her. She turned her head abruptly; my lips collided with her cheek. I pulled back and eyed her. "You look good."

"You hurt my son."

"He threatened me."

"You stalked him."

"He broke my glasses."

"You broke his nose."

We looked each other in the eyes. I was getting upset, mad. I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest. "What do you want from me?"

Helen mirrored my stance. "To leave and never come back."

"I can't do that." She grew silent. "Do you want money?" I asked, recalling back to the conversation over a week ago. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a few bills. "I have money."

"I want you to leave."

Angrily, I threw the money at her, hitting her in the face, and dropped my wallet. I grabbed her arms roughly and held her tight against me. She looked up at me with a little fear gleaming in her soft eyes. I squeezed her arms and she gasped, crying out in pain. "You're hurting me." I brought our bodied even closer.

"Do you want this?" I asked softly, leaning down till our lips were barely an inch apart. Helen was breathing real heavy. "I can be a husband for you now. I can prove myself to you."

"You had a chance. You threw me away, and now I'm returning the favor."

Roughly she pushed against me, but I latched on tight. Her slender hands began to pound on my chest and she cried out again, almost yelling now.

-- -- -- -- --

Two-Bit heard his mother scream out from downstairs, and Linda looked wide-eyed at him. He read his sister's thoughts and jumped up. He couldn't let that man hurt his mother more than he already had. Flying down the stairs and into the kitchen, Jesse was holding Two-Bit's mother against him, and she was pounding on his chest. Two-Bit ran in, furious, and grabbed him. He was surprised and loosened his grip on Helen. Helen jerked from his grasp and backed away. Two-Bit turned Jesse around, holding him by the collar of his shirt, and laid a punch square in his jaw, sending him flying backwards; Two-Bit kept him upright and swung again, landing another across his temple. This time Jesse fell, gasping and cringing. Two-Bit looked at his mother, who was also gasping and shaking, but out of fear more than pain. Jesse coughed, withdrawing his injured hand to his chest, and rubbing it with his other hand. Two-Bit stood there silently, watching as his father scrambled to his feet.

"I never meant to hurt you, Helen," Jesse beseeched. Helen, now calmed down, frowned.

"Get out."

For a moment Jesse looked from on to the other, a defeated look on his face. He nodded finally and walked slowly out of the kitchen. He paused at the door, looking back at the mother and son, who were clearly angered at him. Jesse sighed deeply and walked out of the door he had left open. He shut it softly behind him.

Two-Bit released the breath he held and turned to his mother, who was leaning on the counter now. "Are you okay?" he asked. Helen nodded slowly as he rubbed her upper arms where Jesse had grabbed her so rudely. Two-Bit grinned. "Boy howdy, can you fend for yourself. You were doing a great job before I pranced on in," Two-Bit said happily. "Super mom." He winked.

Helen giggled softly, forcing a smile. But it faded as she thought. "But Jesse will be back. He won't just quit now."

Two-Bit frowned for a split second, then his grin returned. "Not if I'm around." And he puffed out his chest and flexed his arms, holding his fists right under his nose. "I'll beat his sorry little ass like I did last time."

Helen laughed more happily that time, grinning at her easy-going son. She smiled at him before saying, "It's late, you should go to bed. You've had a long night."

Two-Bit, about to protest, yawned a loud, large yawn. He laughed. "I think you're right."


	5. Chapter 4: Just Leave

**Nowhere Man**

**Summary:** "Have you had enough time?"

**A/N:** Using description of Two-Bit in the movie, but with the hair color in the book.

* * *

Angrily the rusty haired greaser kicked the rear tire of his old car, cursing at it and pounding his foot into it more. It hadn't started that morning and he was getting pissed. He was supposed to pick up Ponyboy for the movies since Darry had a thing with letting Ponyboy out on his own; Two-Bit, out of the kindness of his heart, had offered to take the youngest greaser. But now his car refused to start. His mom was gone and his sister had gotten a ride to her friend's house. Now Two-Bit was standing next to a smoking car, glaring at it.

Finally he decided to check under the hood, seeing if there was any problem with it. He had helped Steve on a car or two in his time so he knew a little, only if Steve was there though. Without the help of that dirty mechanic, he'd probably screw something up and kill his car. Well, no use in not trying.

His head was stuck under his hood when the pinkish ford pickup truck rolled up, spitting black gas and sputtering. Two-Bit worked his fingers around something he didn't know the name of, and got down closer to see. His fingers pulled at the object, which broke, of course, and spit a maroon colored oil onto his face. He cried angrily and straightened up, slinging his hands to rid them of the oil, then using his shirt as a rag to wipe his eyes clean.

"You need help?" a voice called. Two-Bit glanced around the hood and looked at the truck, his eyes narrowing.

"No," he spat, turning back to his engine. The truck was shut off and Jesse got out. Two-Bit ignored him and continued his inspection. His father came up beside him and looked in with his son, who clearly wanted him gone. Jesse, not taking the silence as a hint, leaned next to Two-Bit and looked over the engine.

"Nice motor," he said, trying to make small talk. There was no reply. The older man sighed. He was staring at the teen, his eyes burning little holes in his forehead. Two-Bit looked up at the man and sighed.

"Get away, I can do this myself," he warned. Jesse, giving him a look of regret, brushed the clump of hair from his son's face, plastering it to the top of his head.

"You look better without that hair in your face, Keith."

Two-Bit eyed Jesse for a moment, absently running his fingers through his hair, probably spreading some oil through it. "Why are you still here? After both me and my mother told you to leave."

Jesse gave Two-Bit the same look. "I can't just leave now. Besides, your friend also threatened me. Gave me a lovely cut to remind me."

The teen was beginning to shake, his eyes softening and expressing calming. Jesse pulled a rag from his back pocket and offered it to Two-Bit, who took it and rubbed his face with it. He kept the rag over his eyes though, not showing the tears that were begging to be shown and released. Two-Bit straightened, leaning on the grill of his car. Jesse joined him. He said nothing, just watched his son.

Two-Bit finally returned the rag, but didn't make eye contact with the older man. "What makes you think you can just come into my life and think everything will be okay?"

"I never thought that." Two-Bit continued to shake. Jesse ran his finger's through his son's hair in an attempt to calm the boy; Two-Bit made no effort to stop him. "Never," Jesse emphasized in a whisper, grasping the back of the teen's head.

"I was getting along just fine with out a father," Two-Bit whispered hoarsely.

"I want to be in your life. I want to be your father."

Two-Bit stared at the toe of his shoe. After a few minutes of silence, Two-Bit looked up at Jesse. "I had a father."

"You still have--"

"Stop. I had a father; his name was Darrel Curtis Senior."

Jesse froze, looking at his son who's eyes were clouding up real fast. "Just leave, Jesse."

"I can't do that, Keith--"

"Just fucking leave!" Two-Bit screamed, turning and slamming the hood of his old car, which continued to smoke, and walked off. Jesse continued to lean on his son's car, watching Two-Bit walk off with his hands shoved in his pockets and walking with a greater speed.

Unbeknownst to both of them, a thin trail of oil fell to the ground, some splattering on his shoes and collecting around them.

Jesse sighed and lit a cigarette with a match and dropped it; it landed, lit, in the puddle of oil.

Two-Bit saw the explosion from the reflection in the store window first, then heard the bang. People began to run from the surrounding stores, looking towards the cloud of smoke coming from the Mathews residence. Two-Bit's eyes were clenched tight together, wishing the screaming and hissing would stop pounding his ears. Wishing the people would stop slamming their fists on his back, and shaking him to get his attention.

"Two-Bit, that's your house!" someone was yelling in his ear, but the teen didn't open his eyes.

After a while, he heard sirens and finally opened his eyes. The person shaking him was Steve; the DX was right across from the store Two-Bit stopped at. Steve was looking worriedly at his friend, waiting for an answer.

Finally, Two-Bit looked at Steve and whispered, "He blew up my house."


	6. Chapter 5: Too Late

**Nowhere Man  
****Summary: **"Have you had enough time?"  
**A/N:** Jesse did not mean to blow anything up! Acc-i-dent, people. C'mon!  
Oh, and Two-Bit tells Jesse the truth.

* * *

Jesse was thrown back from the explosion. It wasn't enough to kill him, just to stun him. On the ground he writhed in pain, trying to grab both his arm and leg at the same time, and attempting to grab his head. He was dizzy, and his head ached something awful, pounding hard at his head as if someone was going at him with a jackhammer. He bit back a whimper and rolled to his uninjured side and laid there. He watched the house, seeing that there was not much damage except for a broken window or two; the same couldn't be said for the car. Glad nothing was too horribly destroyed, he closed his eyes and breathed quickly and shallowly.

For a while Jesse laid there, staring at the insides of this eyelids, watching the shadows dance across the red haze his eyes made. He kept gasping and breathing shallowly.

After what seemed like forever, he was being lifted and carried someplace; he didn't look, just continued to watch the shadows. There was a lot of murmuring, some talking, a little screaming. He ignored most of it and tried to relax. The stretcher he was laid on landed somewhere with a thud, and he grunted, grasping at his arm. Before Jesse heard the doors shut, he heard a pair of voices, then felt whatever he was in, hopefully an ambulance, sink with the weight of three people, one was the paramedic.

"Jesse," he heard, so he opened his eyes, panting still, and rubbing his head. He looked into a pair of dark, stormy eyes that belonged to his son. Two-Bit looked down at Jesse, almost glaring, but had a sympathetic look deep inside. Jesse cracked a grin.

"Sorry bout your car," Jesse offered, coughing a little. "I'll… get you another one."

"At least you didn't blow up my…" Two-Bit stopped mid sentence, as if something hit him in the back of the head, yelling, 'Tell him you care!'

"At least you didn't blow up," he revised. Jesse smiled, laying his head back down and closing his eyes again.

Steve offered his friend a smile, whose eyes lowered to his cupped hands. Two-Bit sank his teeth into his bottom lip and looked at Steve.

* * *

In the hospital, Jesse woke back up in one of the white beds, covered in bandages, pain swelling in his right arm and in his right leg, and his head throbbing under the bandages around his head. He moaned, turning to his left side to minimize the pain on his right side of his body. Two-Bit was asleep in the white chair next to the bed, his body straightened out so the heels of his feet were touching the ground, legs straight, and his head was lolled backwards limply.

A nurse was walking in as he turned back onto his back. "Good evening, Mr. Mathews," she greeted almost apathetically.

"How long… has he been here?" Jesse asked her. She smoothed her dress down and adjusted her hat in the mirror.

"A few hours."

She brought him his pills, making him sit up and take them, almost forcefully. Without any objection due to fear of being choked, he took the pills and laid back down. The nurse, whose name tag read 'Carol', left as swiftly as she arrived. Jesse couldn't help but watch her round little ass sway under the skirt, and he grinned. Then he heard someone clearing their throat from the end of the bed. He looked over and saw another kid, around his son's age, and blinked.

"So you're the infamous Jesse Mathews?" the kid asked in a matter-of-fact voice, his feet propped up on the wooden frame of the hospital bed.

"And you're…?"

"Steve Randle." His eyes moved to look at Two-Bit laying back in the chair, snoring slightly. "You scared him." This was directed towards Jesse.

"But he hates me," he said softly, defeated almost, staring into oblivion. Steve had his hands laced over his chest, resting.

"I think you two don't understand one another."

Jesse looked up at the kid, who was looking at the ceiling absently. "You two need to find a medium. Meet him halfway and he might warm up to you. After all, you are his dad."

"What makes you an expert?" Jesse asked angrily, setting up in the bed.

The teen simply stood and walked to his friend without a word. He kicked the leg of the chair, but came to no avail. So he kicked Two-Bit's ankles, knocking him off balance. Two-Bit ended up falling to the floor with a thump, which surely woke him up. He sat up, glaring up at Steve. "What the hell was that?" he barked, rubbing his head tenderly.

"Good mornin', Two-Bit," said Steve with a smile. "Someone wants to talk to ya."

The older teen looked up at his father, who was sitting on the bed looking right back. Steve turned on his heels and walked out of the hospital room; they always smelled like alcohol and death, which made Steve's head ache.

Now Two-Bit was alone with his father. He remained sitting on the floor, the only reason being he was too lazy to get up.

Both searched for the words, but neither found quite what they were looking for. Two-Bit wanted to say how worried he was; Jesse wanted to apologize for destroying anything he…well, destroyed. Finally Jesse spoke.

"I'm sorry… I never meant to blow anything up."

For a moment, Two-Bit just stared up at him. Then, out of nowhere, he busted out laughing. Jesse watched as his son laughed heartily as if someone told a joke. When Two-Bit stopped laughing, he grinned at his father.

"Do you know how… funny that sounded?" he asked, a chuckle or two remaining. "I mean, 'I never meant to blow anything up' is just the funniest apology I've ever got!"

Jesse smiled. "Well, I am." There was a pause. "And… if I came on too strong…"

"You kind of had the right to. I mean, you haven't talked to me in eighteen years." Two-Bit's smile was kind of cloudy and half-hearted.

"I want to be a part of your life, Keith."

Two-Bit met eyes with the man he wished he could call 'Dad'. The teen stood and brushed off his jeans. "You're eighteen years too late."


End file.
